Toutes Les Personnes Seules
by kweenofalldreams13
Summary: After Johnny's and Dallas' deaths, Ponyboy's life takes another unexpected turn when Steve, Two-Bit, and Soda are drafted into the Vietnam War and the hippies downtown start a riot. Post-novel.
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

It was a few months after I'd turned in my theme to Mr. Syme, and after the new school year had started. He was a little shocked when he saw how big it was. I told him it felt real good when I had finished, and he said he thought it would, and smiled at me. The rest of the class had gotten theirs graded and given back the last day we had in class, but Mr. Syme wanted to keep mine. He asked me if it was okay, and I told him it was.

Friday afternoon I'd gotten out of school and I was with Soda and Steve at the DX. A bunch of girls from my school were there too. Soda didn't give them much attention, and I could tell that they didn't like that much. He missed Sandy, and even though he didn't tell nobody, we could tell. Steve was working on a nice little Corvette Sting Ray, like the one that I remember Cherry Valance had, and Soda was working the cash register. I stood outside the station smoking a cigarette when Two-Bit walked up.

He didn't look real great. He hadn't looked real great since before the night Johnny and Dallas died. His eyebrows were set in a firm, thin line, and he had a determined look to him. He looked like he was aiming to do something serious, something he wasn't used to. I pulled the cigarette out of my mouth and huffed out a smoke ring. He shook my hand when we got close enough.

"How you doing, Two-Bit?" I asked him, as he passed into the station. He shook his head, looking real tired and old.

"Been up to a lot lately, kid. Soda," he said briefly, seeing my brother and leaning over the counter to talk to him. "Pony, could you get Steve in here for a minute? I want to talk to him and Soda 'bout some things." I nodded, and backed out through the door, sucking on my cigarette. Steve had rolled himself under the car, and was doing some manual labor.

"Steve?" I called out real soft, and he rolled out from under it, giving me a questioning look. Steve didn't look the same either since that night. He and Evie called it quits and a real greasy girl named Brittany was trying to get in his head. He didn't talk to her none. "Two-Bit's inside. He said he wanted a word with you an' Soda. He didn't look real happy about it neither." He bit his lip, and walked with me back inside. They were talking in real hushed tones, like I wasn't even there. I slipped my cigarette into my scowl, until Soda said my name.

"Pony, let's go outside," he said, leaving the register to go outside with me. He looked the same as Steve and Two-Bit, tired and sad and old. Once we were outside, I knew something was wrong. "Can I have a cigarette, Pony? You and me gotta talk." I handed him one, and lit it for him. This wasn't gonna be good. I had an awful sick feeling in my stomach.

"What is it, Soda? What's wrong?" I asked him, as he pushed the cigarette into his mouth and sighed out a cloud of smoke.

"You remember that call we got a few nights ago that Darry didn't want you to know about, Ponyboy?" I nodded. He fiddled with his belt loop on his blue jeans. "Well, me and Steve and Two-Bit...we're leaving." I opened my mouth to holler at him: How could they do that to us? Hadn't Darry yelled at me about letting my life get sucked into a vacuum? Why wouldn't Darry be mad at Soda for this? He just shook his head and said yes when Soda was explaining this, this whatever-it-was to him. "No, don't say anything, Pony. I know it ain't right for us to be leaving at a time like this, but me and Steve and Two-Bit–we can't help it. There's a war going on in Vietnam and...they need us, Pony," he squeaked, and I couldn't help but notice the tiny droplet of water that had leaked out of the corner of his eye.

"War?" I whimpered, and Soda hugged me. Soda couldn't go to war. Two-Bit couldn't go to war. Hell, I didn't want _Steve_ to go to war. They wouldn't be able to last there. There would be killing going on, and dying. People would be dying, and Steve and Soda and Two-Bit would all be in the middle of it. I pulled away from my brother. "Why you?" I begged him at last. "Why did they pick you and not–not–?"

"Why did they pick me and not Darry? Not you, not Tim or Curly? I can't say, Pony. Maybe it's something that can't be helped–you know, like fate? I know it sounds crocked, but it is what it is. Steve and Two-Bit and I got picked. We're the ones that have to go. I leave in two weeks for training and then they're going to send me to 'Nam. I have to fight for my country, Pony. You understand that, right, kiddo? You understand why I have to go?" I held my tongue tight in my mouth.

"Yeah, I understand," I lied to him, and I felt awful about it. I never lied to Soda. Nobody ever lied to Soda. "But Soda?"

"Yeah, Pony?"

"Promise me you ain't gonna be a hero. Promise me you're gonna stay safe and don't hurt nobody." He nodded at me, and his eyes were serious instead of laughing for once in a long time.

"I promise, Ponyboy," he said, but I was sure he was lying to me, too. And it confirmed my worst fears: nobody around here could be trusted anymore.


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Note:** Wow! I leave chapter one up for a few hours and already some hits and reviews! You guys are great! No, that wasn't a one-shot, here's part two. Chapter three is my favorite thus far, but it might be a bit slow getting these out. Thanks for the reviews and keep 'em coming!

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing. Yet.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

The night after Soda and Steve and Two-Bit all left for war training, Darry and I ate supper in deadly silence. We didn't say anything, but I knew we were both thinking of the same things: Johnny withering in the hospital, Dally crumbling in the street to the sound of a gunshot. And for me, I had one memory that Darry didn't: the red, watery haze as a certain dark-haired Soc was being stabbed in the chest, and all his friends were beating it out of there. I was remembering an old church on fire. I remembered too damn much.

At school the next day I saw Cherry again. I don't think she saw me. She was hugging Marcia and talking to her friends. Everyone was all crying, all watery and gasping. Everyone except Cherry and Marcia, and I remembered those special words she'd said to me a long time ago: "_Things are rough all over...things are rough all over...things–_" I hadn't seen a sunset in a long time.

Over the course of the rest of the day, the whole school felt real empty. There were a lot less Socs and at the same time a lot less greasers, but a lot of girls. The principal, this old lady named Mrs. Crabtree (_Two-Bit had spent a lot of time with her_, I thought, but then I tried not to think anymore about Two-Bit), she made everybody go to the auditorium for an assembly. I skipped it and hung around in the bathroom. After it was over, a bunch of Socy-looking girls crowded up around me. I felt like a trapped puppy. _Like Johnny,_ my inner voice told me, but then I told it to shut right up.

"You're Sodapop Curtis's little brother," said a tall, dark-haired junior. She was wearing a long yellow dress and her eyes looked real red. I think she had been one of Cherry's friends. "You're Ponyboy Curtis, ain't you?" She sniffled, and I just about cried with her.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "Yeah, I am."

"Hasn't Sodapop gone off to war with a bunch of them boys?" asked a skinny blond girl. She was a sophomore like me, and real pretty.

"Yeah," I repeated. _Yeah, yeah, yeah_. "He left last night at six o'clock for war training. Steve Randle and Two-Bit Mathews went off with him, too." What was I talking about? They didn't want to hear about Steve or Two-Bit. They just wanted to hear about Soda. Soda, Soda, Soda. That's all everyone cared about was Soda. It had always been that way. It had always been like that.

"Pony," said someone wildly, bursting through the group of Socs. I turned to see Evie rushing between the pretty blonde and the junior just a moment before she grabbed my arm and hollered, "Come on, Ponyboy!" I followed her outside, where we shared a bunch of cigarettes.

"Thanks for that," I said calmly, sucking on the end of my cancer stick. It was crazy how it had the mad ability to relax me so calmly and quickly. It was crazy. Everything was crazy.

"No problem," she replied, blowing smoke out. "You know, Pony, Steve wanted me to give you something, after he went off for war." With that, she dug into her backpack and out emerged a tiny model of a white Chevy truck. "He told me to tell you to mind your cigarettes and put away your valuables." I frowned.

"What d'you reckon that means?" I wondered out loud, taking it from her. It felt fragile in my hands. When did Steve make model cars? Evie shrugged. "Damn," I cursed. "I didn't know Steve would want me to ever have anything of his." Usually it was, "Now, Ponyboy, you had better back the hell away from that carburetor!"

She laughed sadly and humorlessly, stubbing out her dying cigarette with the rubbery heel of her shoe. I flicked my ashes to the ground. And then, she did something I didn't expect: she took my hands in hers, wrapped them around her, and she hugged me tight about the waist.

"I know you think he didn't like you, Pony. Sometimes even I thought all he liked were me and your brother. But I know for a fact, Ponyboy, that he cared about you just as much as he cared about Soda." I glared at her, moving away from her grabby hands.

"Would you just quit it? Would you quit talkin' like he's dead, will ya?" I said, pushing out of her arms, and immediately regretting it when she pulled back as though she'd been burned. "He ain't dead. They ain't none of them dead now. You can't act as though they died already, damn it!" She looked like she wanted to cry again. I can't stand it when girls cry. I mean it, I can't stand it. I put an arm around her shoulders. "Aw, Evie, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean nothin' by it." She wiped her eyes and put on a little smile.

"Oh, hell, don't I know it. You're a good kid, Pony. You're gonna be a doll when you get older. I bet you you're gonna look almost exactly like Soda. You'll have to beat off girls with a cane," she giggled girlishly. Her promises were quite the fantasy. Shoot, my hair hadn't been the same since I (don't think _we_, I told myself, never think _we_) cut it and bleached it a while back. I laughed with her. "Well, it's almost time for class. I'd better get going, Pony. I've got Mr. Powell for homeroom this year and I don't want detention any time soon. I'll see you around, now, Pony."

I made my way to class after she had long gone.


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer:** If I owned The Outsiders, Johnny and Dally would still be around. So S.E. Hinton can technically say "GIT OFFA MY PROPITY!" :) Lennon/McCartney owns the song "Eleanor Rigby."

**Note:** This is my favorite chapter thus far. Pretty boss, in my opinion :)

**Chapter Three**

I went to the DX out of habit after school again, thinking Soda would be there to pick me up and we'd get a Pepsi and a candy bar and Steve could let me take off some hubcaps or something easy like that. Instead, I met a couple of real oily-lookin' greasers who just stared at me when I walked up. I tried to look tough, shoving my fists in my pockets, slouching, and shooting a moody gaze at them, so they wouldn't come talk to me, but they did anyway. It turns out that whenever there's something you don't want to happen, it'll happen anyways, every time.

"Curtis...hey, Curtis!" one of them yelled, and came running up to me. I recognized him from the rumble. He had a head of thick brown hair and mucky brown eyes and a scar splitting his eyebrow in two. I stopped in my tracks, and stuck my hands further into my pockets, slipping my thumbs into my belt loops. "You and that one kid, the one that died, y'all were the ones that killed that Soc?" I nodded shamefully, pretending I was proud of myself. I really wasn't happy with myself for being there at that moment. Where did Darry say he was going to be? "You know, me and a couple of buddies of mine were lookin' for a good fighter, maybe bust some heads later on. If, of course, you'd like to join us..." he trailed off. I knew it wasn't right. I knew I shouldn't.

I started to say, "Sorry, but I've got a couple of buddies I already bum around with," but he cut me off, stuffing his hand between us. "It's Chuck. Chuck Kendall, I'm the leader of the East Side Eagles." He pointed over at his friends one by one. The tall, thin one, with heavy grease in his hair and a busted lip was Davis. The one with white-blond hair that reminded me of Dallas' was Jim. And the real dangerous looking one, the one that could have hung round with Tim and Curly Shepard and Dally and Buck Merril, the one with the icy blue eyes that condemned upon me thoughts of only Darry and Dally, he was Tommy. Tommy cracked his knuckles threateningly with a glare.

"My name's Ponyboy Curtis," I introduced myself, not taking my eyes off Tommy for a minute. "I don't know, Chuck. I'll think about it for sure, but I've got buddies of my own to bust heads with. I'll see you around, Chuck. Thanks, man." We shook hands one last time, and I looked down at the sidewalk and started to walk again.

It wasn't until the random voice in the back of my head had grown so loud it was nearly shouting that I realized someone old and new was calling my name.

"Pony! Hey, Ponyboy!"

I whipped around to see a nice-lookin' blue car, a familiar Mustang to my right. A Soc car. It pulled over, and the blue passenger door opened. Randy smiled at me from the drivers' seat. I just stared at him. Maybe if I just kept walking, he wouldn't notice I wasn't getting in the car.

"Well, you gonna get in or what, Pony? I mean, d'you need a ride, kid?" Randy amended carefully. I nodded, and walked over to the passenger side, closing the door carefully after myself after I'd stepped in. "Long time, no see, Ponyboy. What have you been up to, kid?" It sounded like he was a long-lost brother or something. I leaned back against the seat, staring out the window. My best friend had killed his best friend, and he had even died for it. And yet how could we be so...friendly? _My best friend had killed his best friend..._

"Same as always, Randy. Thanks for the ride, by the way. What have you been up to lately?"

"Aw, you know," he shrugged. "I've been working a lot. It's been real nice. I like to get away every once in a while. Work's been nice, though. Takes my mind off things I don't want to think about. I haven't seen anyone in a long time, though." I didn't say anything. He sounded...off. Maybe a little too cheery. He sighed. "I heard about your brother and your friends. Sodapop and Two-Bit and Steve, right?" he inquired.

"Yup," I told him, refusing to turn my eyes his way. I knew if I did his would have some kind of sincerity in them that would just about make me want to break down and bawl like a baby. "They only left a couple of days ago. I miss them already, though. And all the girls at school are asking me about Soda. How come he ended up in the war and all. If I knew I wouldn't tell them." Randy pulled over again, stopped the car, and rested his forehead against the steering wheel.

"I feel terrible listening to you talking about all this baloney like that. Why some people went and other people didn't. It's like the lottery, Ponyboy," he said miserably. "You get so _lucky_ and you think you're just invincible. But when you see all your friends down because they can't win when you do, you just...you want to die. That's what it's like, only worse. I feel proud not to have to fight like they are, but at the same time I feel horrible that I can't be around them, or in their place because they're on death's door and I'm not. You dig, Pony?" I nodded, biting down hard on my lip. "I go to the college downtown, Pony," he told me almost out of the blue. "There's a lot of hippie kids going there and they asked me if I wanted to protest with them. I'm scared to, Pony. None of them are from around here, and I don't know anybody. I'm _scared_."

By this time I couldn't not look at him. He and Cherry were the first Socs to ever admit to me, a kid grease of all people, that they actually expressed some kind of feeling. Randy's eyes were as round as saucers and his mouth turned down in a wretched expression. I started to reach over for some reason, but held myself back. He swallowed loudly and looked down. We remained in silence for a long moment. And then he revved the car back into drive.

"Where do you live, Pony?" he asked briefly, and I told him. I gave him the directions, and in a few minutes, we parked outside my house. Darry's old truck was missing from the driveway.

"Thanks, Randy," I said shortly, and got out of the car. But when I came back around, it felt wrong not to say more. "Randy? You know, if y'all ever need anything, you or Cherry...just stop by, okay? Me and Soda and Darry, if any of the gang had any trouble, we'd just let 'em stay with us. It's just...you're sorta one of us now a little bit, so if y'all ever need anything, me and Darry are gonna be here for you, Randy." I saw a small grin take to his face and he nodded slowly.

"Alright. Yeah, sure, I'll be around." I nodded back, banging softly on the car with a palm and retreating back to the house. A soft, sort of haunting tune trailed from one of the Soc-lookin' cars passing by and I hummed along with it, even though it was something greasers weren't ever supposed to like: the Beatles.

_All the lonely people_

_Where do they all come from?_

_All the lonely people_

_Where do they all belong?_


End file.
